An Unlikely Inevitability
by ragingshiftingwindsofchange
Summary: Hermione and Draco have some unfinished business to take care of before seventh year is over...hehe
1. Chapter 1

"God, how _ridiculous_ is it that we still have to take _Charms_?" Draco Malfoy seethed as he walked down the hall with his two best friend, Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe. He had only _just_ had his morning coffee, and it was clearly not going to be enough to get him to lunch. "I mean, Merlin's sake, it's _kid__'__s_ stuff. I mean, I've been conjuring patronuses since I was _seven_."

Without looking at his friend, Goyle says, "What's a patronus?"

Malfoy rolls his eyes and keeps walking, "Whatever, lads. One more year, and we're out of this place for good." _And__I__can__go__work__at__the__Ministry,__where__people__actually__respect__good__breeding_, but Malfoy did not say that out loud.

The three boys headed up the stairs and take the hidden passageway over to Charms classroom ("I mean, _how_ does nobody else know about this? It's just so _obvious._"). Just as Draco was about to open the door, it flew open, and a mousy-haired, frizzy-headed girl nearly ran into him and knocked him over.

Malfoy jumped back in disgust, "Watch it, _Granger_!" Malfoy dramatically adjusted his robes.

Hermione just kind of ducked her head down and muttered, "Sorry, Malfoy." There was a kind of urgency to her tone. "Professor Flitwick wanted me to run back to get the levitating glass of orange juice that I conjured up over the summer, and I don't want to miss any of his lecture."

Malfoy just rolled his eyes, and pushed past her, "Whatever, just get out my way." He muttered, too quiet for anyone else to have heard.

Taking their usual seats in the back of the room, the three boys talked more about the stuff that they did over the summer - Crabbe only getting to second base with Lavender Brown ("Could see why Weasley gave her up"), Goyle going to a muggle concert and silently messing around with the lights ("God, they're such _idiots._").

"Settle down, class, settle down!" Flitwick squeaked from the front of the room. He began his traditional welcome-back-to-Hogwarts-you're-going-to-have-to-work-harder-than-last-year speech. Malfoy rolled his eyes, and slumped into a half sitting up and half sleeping position. Just as Flitwick was talking about all the advanced spells that they were going to do ("You might even get to try a self-levitation charm, if you're good!"), Hermione burst back into the class, a glass of orange juice floating at her side.

Flitwick gave her a giant grin, and Malfoy snorted at the sight. _Of__course__Flitwick__favors__her__-__everybody__knows__how__much__he__loves__Mudbloods_, Draco thought snidely. Hermione rushed back to her seat in the front row and started scribbling notes as fast as she could.

"Now," Flitwick said, "_This_ is something I thought you'd all find very interesting." He pulls out his wand and summons the floating glass over to him. "Miss Granger made this _herself_ over the summer, a very impressive feat for _anybody_ let alone someone who is still in school. It takes a very complex amount of..."

Flitwick bleats on about the intricacies of creating an object that will perpetually float and ooh-how-wonderful-is-Granger-in-all-her-charming-glory-praise-her-magical-wisdom. Draco rolls his eyes more times than he can quantify, and finds himself unconsciously shaking his head. _Fucking,__Hermione_,thought Draco,_who__the__hell__would__ever__actually__shag__her?_


	2. Chapter 2

Draco Malfoy woke up just as Charms was ending, "Don't forget to read the introduction and the first chapter of your textbook for next week!" Professor Flitwick called as he hopped down off his podium.

"Ugh," Draco said to Crabbe, "How long was I out for?"

Crabbe shrugged, "Dunno. Pretty much all of it."

Draco took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes, "Did I miss anything important?"

"You mean besides from Granger being a know-it-all and a three hour lecture on the history of charming theory?" This came from Goyle, "No, you didn't miss anything."

"Good," Draco said as he nodded a lot, unsure if for any reason other than being tired. "I think I'm gonna go back to bed, catch up on some sleep." He could barely talk without losing all his energy.

"What about lunch?" Crabbe said, cocking his head to the side.

"I think I still have some of the turkey that Mum gave me to bring up. Anyway, you guys go ahead, I'm wiped. I'll meet you at Potions."

Crabbe and Goyle headed down to the Great Hall, while Draco took the adjacent staircase that led down to the basement. He was nearly falling over himself, unable to keep his eyes fully open and walk at the same time, _why__am__I__so__damn__tired_, he thought to himself as he stumbled downstairs.

Finally reaching the seventh year dorms (_so_ much nicer than sixth year - Draco had considered complaining to his father), the boy stripped down to his underwear and a white undershirt, and collapsed in bed. It was not long after his head landed on that soft goose-feather pillow that Draco fell into a dream-filled sleep.

Draco opened his eyes to find himself in the Gryffindor common room. Or rather, what he thought was he Gryffindor common room - he would never _dare_ set foot in that pestilence-ridden, flea-bitten excuse for a dormitory. Everything was red and gold: the walls, the chairs, the tables. What a disgusting excuse for a common room.

"Hey!" A voice says to his right; Draco turns to find Hermione Granger. "Don't talk about Gryffindor that way!"

Whatever, stupid Granger, _of__course_ she would be here.

She glared unfalteringly. "Yeah, I live here you arse."

Draco stared at Granger, and, for the first time, took a proper look at her. She wore a red tank top with the word "GRYFFINDOR" across the front in gold lettering and black leggings that hugged her body in all the right places. Her hair was pulled back, showing off her slender, long neck and her _very_ defined clavicle.

Hermione squinted her eyes at Draco. "What are you staring at?"

Draco blinked quickly and averted his eyes to stare at the enormous fireplace on the right side of the room. _Merlin_, could the Gryffindors have gotten any _more_ crazy with the fire, blazing, courage thing?

Hermione breathed out in an annoyed huff. "Malfoy, if you're going to be an arse, why don't you just go back and do it in your own common room?"

Before Draco could say or do anything about it, he was over next to Hermione, arms wrapped around her body, lips pressed firmly onto hers. The kiss began roughly, just lips smashed on top of each other. Hermione quickly broke off and sputtered, "Malfoy, what the-?" But Draco kissed her again, softer this time, silencing her protests with his mouth. He moved with the kiss, gentle prying her mouth open with his tongue. After a few seconds, she began to respond. Moving with him, slipping her tongue into his mouth - it was all quite odd for Draco, _but__it__felt__so__good_. He moved a hand up to the back of her head and pushed their faces closer together, wanting more, wanting to feel more. Her hands moved around every few seconds - from his back to his arms to his neck - trying to find the right spot. Then, just as her hands were beginning to creep up under his t-shirt...

Draco woke up with a start. His entire body was covered in sweat, a quick check with one hand confirmed that he was hard, and he could not catch his breath.

It was 11:45; he had only slept for ten minutes, but he was wide awake.

_Granger_? Draco thought to himself as he tried to remember what he had just been dreaming. _Something...something__about__leggings,__hair,__her__clavicl__-__Oh__my__Merlin._ Everything flew back into his head. The common room, the kissing, the hair - _how__could__Granger__'__s__nasty__mane__be__so__soft?__-_everything that had happened should have made Draco disgusted. _Granger__is__gross;__she__is__a__smart-arse__who__doesn__'__t__deserve__to__go__to__a__place__like__Hogwarts._

But then he thought of her smile, and the way her lips felt on his, "How could it have been so _real_?" Draco murmured to himself. Then he looked down at his underwear, _No_, he told himself, _not__right__at__all._ But it was starting to put a strain on his balls, so he grabbed his copy of _Sultry__Sorceress_from under his bed and removed his underwear.

Teasing his head at first so that he could open to the right page, Draco quickly found his favorite model - Wanda Lyttle. He watched her spread her legs apart, inserting a finger into herself, and twisted just below the head - he let out a little moan of pleasure.

She winked at him from the picture, and Draco picked up speed. Moving his hand up and down, he watched Wanda put more fingers inside herself - _Merlin_, why don't magazines have _sound_? Imagining the way she was gasping out in pleasure, Draco felt himself coming closer and closer to an orgasm. He accelerated even more.

He was on the brink of coming, simulating the sex he so clearly desired, when Hermione's face came into his brain. Those buck teeth, the bushy hair, and...those perfect, soft lips.

He came spectacularly, gasping out, imagining Hermione's face in front of him, swallowing his cum and licking it clean - his softening penis nearly got hard again.

As he breathed heavily, lying on his bed, smiling like a fool, he thought of that kiss - it was only a dream, but _Merlin_ it felt real. _What__would__it__be__like__to_actually _kiss__Granger_, Draco wondered. This thought, along with many others, drifted Draco into a peaceful, satisfied sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Draco woke up to the sound of Crabbe and Goyle coming up the dormitory stairs. He jumped out of bed, _Fuck,_ Draco thought,_how__long__did__I__sleep_? Draco pulled on a pair of underwear and the pair of pants that he had so haphazardly thrown on his chair.

Just as he was buttoning up his shirt from earlier, the two boys entered the seventh year dorm. Crabbe just stared at Draco with a half-confused-half-gas look on his face. Goyle was the one who spoke, "Where were you? You slept through Potions?"

Draco rubbed his eyes and yawned, "Yeah, I was wiped, man. Snape won't care; it'll be fine. What did I miss?"

Crabbe spoke up, "More Granger."

Just the mention of her name, even in the negative context, made Draco jump. He sputtered out, "Oh, oh, Hermione Granger? She's...she's in that class then? Okay, yeah...cool." He finished lamely.

Neither one of the boys picked up on his discomfort. Goyle said, "Yeah, Snape kept going on about this love potion, and the way to brew it, and Granger argued with him about this fundamental wizard theorist or something...I don't really remember."

Draco hung onto his every word, flinching again when Granger - well, Hermione, he supposed - was mentioned. He wanted more; he _needed_ more. "Whatever," was the only logical response he could form. "Let's go down to the Great Hall, I'm starved."

It was the mid-afternoon break between classes, so the Great Hall was relatively full. The three boys walked over to their usual spots at the Slytherin table where the other seventh years were already seated.

After they sat down, Draco spun his head around quickly to look at the Gryffindor table, and let out a small sigh of relief when he saw that she was not there. He turned around and faintly wondered to himself why he felt himself so simultaneously afraid of and attracted to Hermione.

Pansy Parkinson sat right in front of him. "Something the matter, Drake?" She said tilting her head to the side and looking him up and down. "You seem tense. I mean, more than usual."

Draco waved her away, "Nothing, nothing, I'm fine. Just didn't get a ton of sleep last night."

She shrugged, "Shame."

The rest of the seventh year Slytherins chatted and joked about how they were going to haze the first years. _Technically_ speaking, they were not allowed to do anything remotely close to hazing, but, in Slytherin terms, hazing was just a word people used for rooting out the weakest links - a necessary evil.

Draco responded the way he was supposed to and laughed at all the right times, but all he could think about was _her_. He must have pulled a muscle turning around so much to make sure she was not sitting at the Gryffindor table. He spotted Weasley, Potter, and Longbottom in their usual spots, but no bushy haired (and, Merlin, _curvy_) Grangers in sight. _Why__the__hell__do__I__care__so__much?_ Draco thought to himself.

Suddenly, he was being shoved on the shoulder - it was Blaise. "I said, what do you think, Draco?"

Draco blinked rapidly a few times before asking hazily, "Sorry, what did you say?"

Blaise rolled his eyes, "I _said_, what do you think about making the first years clean our showers after the first quidditch match without magic?"

"Well, _Blaise_," Draco managed to mumble condescendingly, which made Pansy giggle. "If memory serves correctly, wasn't that done to us in our first year?"

The Slytherins all turn to watch Blaise squirm. "Um...well, but," He sputtered, "I just thought, that, you know, it was kind of a classic in their day, so, you know, it would still be doable for us."

Draco just shrugged noncommittally, "It was a silly idea in their time and it would be even stupider in ours. Very lame, _very_ unoriginal. I believe we can do better than that."

The rest of the table quickly picked up the conversation with better ideas. Draco continued to repeatedly glance over his shoulder - still no Granger. He glanced up at Pansy just as he turned back around, who was eyeing him suspiciously. She opened her mouth as if she was going to ask him something, but quickly shut it in favor of listening to Goyle loudly shout his idea to the entire Great Hall.

Eventually, someone mentioned that it was almost time for Defense Against the Dark Arts (or, as the Slytherins liked to call it, "The Dark Arts"), and they all stood up to go to the third floor.

Draco, Goyle, and Pansy took their seats in the back, and ranked the first years by family until class started. A few pages of doodles and an hour and a half later and the first day of classes was finally over. But Draco could not shake that looming thought in his mind. His brain was filled with the image of the girl he was never supposed to like. But, those soft curls, the ski-slope nose, that perfect skin, and her eyes - how could he ever have liked anyone else?


End file.
